101 Reasons to Smile
by Elevenshour
Summary: The Doctor and Clara are best friends - they share laughs, smiles, and hand holding, but is that all really enough? With 101 places to see, there's always going to be 101 different reasons to smile. (Some may be AU, while some are going to be set in the DW universe. Review! NO FLAMES PLEASE)
1. The Past and Present

_New story._

_Whouffle._

_One of the best ships ever, in my opinion, thank you very much._

_Now, let's begin, shall we?_

He thought he'd try something new. Something that would help try erase the memories that plagued his mind. Get rid of the thought of **her**, the smiles they'd shared, the way they'd held hands, when they'd kissed, just purely **them.** He wanted to wipe it away, so that he'd be able to start afresh.

But honestly, he didn't think he'd be _that_ infatuated.

He loved the way her hair bounced and curled along her shoulders as she walked with her red satchel down the street. He adored the way that she smiled at him, with brown eyes lightening and shoulders relaxing, and he had wished that time would be kind and freeze the moment for him so that he didn't have to pretend that it was slipping away. Her button nose was small and her hands were dainty, with long fingers that would tie his bow tie for him when he was struggling with it. He remembered her _perfectness_, just how she was brave and funny and short and just the right size for him, and he wanted to whip out a camera and snap a picture of her so that it'd always be with him.

'_Yep, John, you've definitely lost your mind at this point.'_ Doctor John Smith sat at his desk and thought to himself. '_She definitely doesn't want to be with you anymore, so what's the point?'_

_You may think that, _a little voice inside him whispered. _But you don't know for sure. So are you going to sit her and mope about it, or are you going to go after her?_

'_It's too late!'_

_It's never too late._

"Yes it **is!"** John groaned in frustration and slammed his head down against the wooden desk, causing a cup of writing utensils to fall and clatter on the hardwood flooring. He turned his head and let his cheek rest against the smooth wood, floppy quiff falling into his green eyes. John sighed deeply. That new job with her not being there seemed to make each day go by more slowly.

John was a neurosurgeon and a doctor. He had worked at TARDIS Hospital and Medical Research Labs, one of the top hospitals in London. No one really knew what TARDIS actually stood for, and yet no one really cared because they always got the job done. To everyone else, Doctor John Smith was a hero – saving lives as many times as he could. No one knew his past. No one knew what he had been through, or what he had done. He had intended to keep it that way. Only Vastra and her wife Jenny, the head pediatricians, as well as Strax, the security guard, had known.

Oh, and Clara Oswald did too, after a while, of course.

She had found out a few weeks after they had become best friends. The Gallifrey Explosion was known all over the world, but no one knew exactly what happened. And no one knew who set off the bombs all over the city. The question was _who?_

The answer?

The Daleks. A violent, heartless, yet incredibly intelligent and cunning gang that haunted each street of Gallifrey. The four leaders were known as the Cult of Skaro – Caan, Sec, Jast and Thay. They were ordered by their "Dalek Creator" Davros to find new ways to kill. New ways to conquer.

And they did.

They had always held a grudge against John. No one knew why. But they didn't care to share.

They kidnapped John on the day of the explosion, and forced him to do their dirty work.

"_Do it, Smith. Press the button. And as soon as you do, all of the people in this miserable excuse for a city will be gone. And boom. Bye-Bye family."_

"_Why do you do this?" John cried out, struggling against the bonds strapped around his waist, tears streaming down his face. "Why do you hate me?"_

"_I'm not going to tell you, John. Now press. The damn. Button. Or I kill your wife and family before the bombs hit."_

"_No!"_

"_Your wife is pregnant, John. River Song is pregnant."_

_John stopped. "W-What?"_

_Sec smiled nastily. "Ah, that got your attention. Hm, when I shoot her, should I aim the sniper at the womb first or just shoot her in the head, get it-"_

"_NO! No, please, no, don't kill her, I'll do it, I'll do it!" John pleaded. Sec grinned. "Good boy. Now. Press the button." Shakily, John took the silver metal square and stared at the gleaming plastic button that sat atop it. "Go on, John. Remember the price you will pay."_

_A tear splashed onto the red._

_His eyes squeezed shut. His finger slammed down on the button._

_And in the distance, screams and explosions filled the air, while blood colored the skies._

John shut his eyes, trying to block out the memory. Sitting up, he noticed he had been crying.

River had been pregnant.

And he hadn't even known.

John wasn't the same after the genocide. He was devastated, suicidal, even. Instead of being the silly, fun man he once was, he became an alcoholic- barely even able to pay his rent. Luckily, Vastra had found him lying in an alley, brutally beaten, and brought him home to not only tend to his wounds, but to help him clean up his act. Given him a job at TARDIS, and he had become the top neurosurgeon in the country.

But now he was away from Clara. His sweet, funny Clara, who would brighten his day. She worked with Vastra and Jenny in the pediatrician's offices, as a nurse. She would be the one who held the children's hands when they received their vaccine shots if they didn't want to hold their parents' hands, or comfort them if they were sick. She was beautiful, and kind, and she understood him and he loved her for that. He just didn't want her to get hurt because of him. The Gallifrey Explosion had had their yearly anniversary, and John made the mistake of visiting the memorial.

His mind was flooded with memories of River and his unborn child, his parents, his brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews and it was his fault, _his fault_ that they were gone.

He had reverted to his old ways of drinking up his money. And he shouldn't have, he knew that, but it was too painful. He was becoming moody and he had snapped at poor Clara to the point where she burst into tears in the empty corridor. So he left TARDIS and went to the London Memorial Hospital, number two on the Medical Care list in the U.K.

He couldn't stand it. He had to go back. He was in love again because of Clara and he had to remember that. He had to apologize. He had to make things right.

'_And I will.' _John firmly decided. He picked up his work phone and dialed Vastra's number.

"_Hello?"_

"Vastra? It's John. Missed me yet?"

"Morning, Martha." John greeted Nurse Martha Jones, who sat rifling through papers on the reception desk. She looked up in surprise. "Doctor Smith! You're back!"

John grinned. "So I am. Have you seen Jenny?"

"Jenny? Oh, I think she's going through some papers for one boy. Poor kid's got strep throat." John grimaced in sympathy. Strep was never fun.

"Right. Thanks."

"Hey, Doctor Smith!" Martha called out as he walked away.

John abruptly turned. "Ey?"

She grinned. "You're looking for Clara, aren't you?"

"How'd you guess?"

She shrugged. "A hunch, I suppose. But she's downstairs, getting coffee. Go catch her before she walks away." John nodded. "I will, I swear to it."

John stepped into the elevator, greeting some other surgeons and doctors, who didn't seem too surprised at his sudden return. As he rushed into the cafeteria, she spotted Clara, who was heading in his direction. "Clara!" He called out, running towards her, white coat billowing behind him. Clara stopped and looked amused as she set down her coffee, right before John picked her up and crashed his lips against hers. "You-" he muttered in between kisses. "drive me bloody _insane_, do you know that?"

Clara giggled against his lips; this was just as good as an apology for all that had happened in the past. She pulled away and pretended nothing had happened with a large grin on her lips as she straightened his bow tie, while others gawked at the sight.

'_She just made out with a man in public and she's just fixing his bloody bow tie like nothing happened?'_ was probably the exact thought running through their minds at the exact moment.

But neither person seemed to care. John stood and looked at her with a goofy smile on his face while Clara cleared her throat and looked up at him. "Miss me?"

"Yeah, lots." He replied, that goofy smile still plastered on his face, as he swooped in for another kiss.


	2. It Was Too Late

**IM SUCH A TERRIBLE PERSON I HAVENT UPDATED IN FOREVER GAH**

**This is one of my Wattpad stories, by the way.**

**0o0o0o0o0o0**

_This town used to be a pretty place to stay,_

_A place to stop off on the highway_

_But all of those things changed on the day you packed up your bags_

_And you ran away._

The Doctor watched Clara walk out of the TARDIS with a hardened expression on his face. As the doors closed, his face fell, the newer lines on his old and grey face seemed to show. "Why am I so bad at this?" He groaned into his hands.

He remembered...

He remembered the times when he and Clara had gone onto all sorts of adventures, her and his previous incarnation. He knew that she probably loved him, but the worst part was that he couldn't allow that. All those times he had saved the universe, proved to it that he _was_ the man that could turn around armies at the mention of his name. Only the universe didn't care. The saddened Time Lord sighed, and the TARDIS beeped in sympathy.

_All they say, is how you've changed._

_Every day, I stay the same._

_So you can keep the necklace that I gave to you, I'll keep the sh***y tattoos._

The Doctor sat down on the floor against the console. What was he to do? He couldn't bring his Eleventh face back, that would raise questions, and he certainly couldn't throw Mr. Danny P.E. into the Time Vortex, no matter how much he wanted to.

He wished that he could see Amelia. She'd know what to do, what to say, and especially how to work this out. The Doctor closed his eyes and remembered that if Clara wanted to live a normal human life with a normal human... _boyfriend, _then he couldn't interfere.

'_But she's not normal,'_ a voice in his head whispered. '_She's the Impossible Girl.'_

The Doctor grimaced. Yes, she was, but she wasn't so impossible now, was she? Especially since she seemed to be drifting farther and farther away from him, a little part of her hating him more and more. Which he didn't want.

Clara Oswald seemed to like his old face more and more. And the more the Doctor thought about it, the more he hated the fact that he couldn't do anything about it.

_I can see it from the other side,_

_the grass isn't always as green, _

_The house is burned to ashes, I'm no longer in between,_

_R.I.P., R.I.P.,_

_You and me..._

The Doctor stood up and dusted himself off, walking over to his chalkboard. He tried to focus on equations, mathematical imposibilities, _anything_ to get his mind off of Miss Clara Oswin Oswald.

He hadn't realized what he had been writing until the chalk squeaked and scratched against the blackboard. He snapped back into reality and emotionlessly stared at what he had written

The chalk snapped in his hands, white dust exploding onto his skin and sprinkling onto his black coat.

**Clara Oswin Oswald: Impossible Girl + The Doctor**

He scowled as the white words laughed up at him. It was foolish nonsense, he looked like her grandfather. It was too late.

As the Doctor furiously scrubbed away the evidence of what he had written, he stared at the blackboard, one long finger tracing the word "Impossible".

It was too late.

_R.I.P., R.I.P., _

_You and me..._

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**I'm obviously a fun person.**


End file.
